God, Weed and War
by shinigami no baka
Summary: Thoughts and actions of a GW pilot with a lot of pented up fustrations about God, war, and weed in general.


Disclaimer: GW is owned by Sunrise and Sutso Agency. Sue me, and all you get is probably some evil socks.  
  
Warning: Contains rants about God. I'm not a religious person myself, and usually I don't talk about God. Nor do I have anything against God or anything remotely religious. But in this fic, it seemed to warrent that a GW pilot would think idly about it, the philosophy behind God. So here's my feeble attempt at something somewhat a fic. R&R please.  
  
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Footsteps softly fall as a long figure walked up that long aisle. Shadows played upon the pale face, making him seem like one of the living dead.  
  
Only a few hours ago, he was carrying out orders to attack an OZ base. It had gone without a hitch, but as he turned to go, with a fiery inferno blazing in the background, he flew over a field.   
  
Wild and full of weeds but here and there, there lay flowers. Bunches and bunches of wild flowers, all growing from the weeds. How they grew there without the lecherous weeds leeching their life away, he didn't know nor did he want to. Lost in thought, he circled.  
  
It seemed only like yesterday that he had played in fields similar to these. Laughed and cried. Picked flowers, their fragrance hanging like a veil over him. That green expanse that stretched to nowhere.  
  
He didn't need to worry. Just left his troubles, fears, worries and sadness at the door, grew wings and flew.  
  
Flew over the fields, mind emptied and devoid of any dark thoughts. Just being happy, like the bubbles in champagne.  
  
Face unlined by wrinkles brought on by worry. It was quite amusing, to see that even a Gundam pilot can have such a simple feeling such as worry when they were trained not to. Not to worry about death. Not even loved ones... He wasn't supposed to have loved ones.  
  
He was innocent there. And happy. That was important, being happy. Happiness wasn't something that he came across too often. Others coveted diamonds, he coveted happiness.  
  
Sunshine rained warmth on his entire body. He soaked up the golden goodness, revelling in it as one who would welcome a hot shower after a hard day of work.  
  
All that was in the past now. A dim small voice inside his head whispered that maybe, someday, after this blasted war was over, he would play in those fields again. Until then...  
  
Weary eyes played peek-a-boo in the soft light that shone from the altar. So tired. He stood there for a long time, lost in the thoughts of long ago. Idly, he noted a priest stood behind him, eyes boring into his back.  
  
" Do you have need of me, my son? I sense that you have much to divulge," said the priest, smiling in that soft way of his. The priest wanted him to confess.   
  
He stood there woodenly, still as a statue. The priest went on, " perhaps, you have need of a confession."  
  
He shook his head. He wasn't worthy. And yet, something made him go into the confession stand. He took no notice of what the person on the other side said afterwards. But an eon of silence stretched and he slowly got up the courage to speak.  
  
He could blow up thousands of suits in a blink of an eye without any hesitation. But speaking to a priest? He was as nervous as a girl on her first date.  
  
" Forgive me... No, I don't deserve forgiveness. Nor do I believe in God, the Virgin Mary or Jesus Christ. I don't believe in anything but what I make it to be. Fate lies in my hands. With a push of a button or a twitch of a trigger, I decide whether you live or die. I fight for something I have not seen nor experienced. Whether it is real or not, I do not know. But I fight on. Hundreds, no, thousands have died by my hand. I do not feel sorrow, for tomorrow I shall do the same again. Over and over until ' peace ' is achieved. Nor do I feel guilt, for I am fighting for your tomorrow. Our children's future. Some say that God is everywhere. Where was God, when wars were fought and countless innocents died? Where was God then? God does not exist. God never existed.  
  
" And if I die? I die gladly. I died for something that was worth fighting for. Worth hoping and dreaming for. Worth dying. People are like weeds you know. They grow on you, leeching out all your energy and strength until one day, you just die. There are too many weeds out there, and not enough flowers. People who are like flowers are rare nowadays. Too much weed cluttering out there.   
  
" But not all weeds are like what you think they are. Sometimes, they're beautiful in disguise, but inside, they're dark and ugly. I think I'm a weed. My 'inside' are too ugly to be a flower. I can never be a flower, no matter how hard I try.  
  
" I control destiny. The world is what we make of it. Not some holy figure but us. As human beings in general. I'm throwing my life away without even a thought. So I can end this bloody masquerade. So people will go back living normally and not worry about being killed.  
  
" God? There is no God. I carry with me all the hopes, the dreams, the beliefs that countless others before me has carried and cherished. And countless others out there like in the colonies that hope one day that this will all be over. God has nothing to do with it.  
  
" If there was truly a God, then there won't be people like me."  
  
He silently swept out the confession booth and in quick strides, exited the church. He didn't know why he went in there. He wasn't religious.  
  
But it felt good. Pouring out those thoughts growing inside, waiting to explode. Now they're out in the open.  
  
He hoped some day... some day... that he could go back and take back those words uttered today. He hoped to come back knowing peace and what it was. All these hopes...  
  
Until then, he'll keep on fighting. Whatever it takes to win.  
  
So someday, all children can dream and hope. There will be no other need for others like him.  
  
He liked that. 


End file.
